


No More Waiting

by fanforfanatic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Banter, Blow Jobs, Case Fic, Cunnilingus, Dean Winchester and Feelings, Dean and Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, OFC hunts with the wincheters, Oral Sex, Playful Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Case, Sex, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:25:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9672707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/pseuds/fanforfanatic
Summary: After a case that was more touch and go than either are comfortable with, Dean and Mace take an even bigger risk.-“Hookers don’t wear hoodies, Sammy.” Dean took it upon himself to educate his little brother.Mace rolled her eyes as she rubbed her hands together. “Dean knows all about that working girl life.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to pixikinz (here on ao3, srsly check her out) for being a constant and consistently awesome support.

She wore ugly red fishnet stockings that clashed with her skin tone under tacky over-the-knee shiny patent leather boots. The skirt was of nicer quality, taken from her own wardrobe, a soft buttery leather that usual hit a dignified mid-thigh length. Now, however, she’d pulled it so high on her waist that the hem covered her ass and maybe an inch of thigh. Her top was also one of her own. A tight black t-shirt she opted for, instead of her usual looser fits, when she was hitting the bar and didn’t plan on leaving alone. 

Of course, when she’d donned the shirt on that night, Dean had shook his head disapprovingly before grabbing a pair of scissors and stalking towards her. First, he’d cut it shorter so that it reached just above her belly button. Then, he’d cut a slit downwards from the neckline, opening up the flaps to reveal her cleavage. He took a step back, pondered and then tore the rip just a tiny bit more.

“Gotta admit, Mace,” He’d said in a satisfied tone. “You look like an authentic hooker. Nothing kosher left, sweetheart.” He’d grinned devilishly and winked.

That was two and a half hours ago and Mason had since then been dropped off by the boys in the alley behind _Le Zest_ club where they thought sex workers were being taken. Taken to get murdered, for clarification’s sake. Murdered and then found with symbols carved into their skin. They’re thinking demonic ritual sacrifices. 

Well, Mace _had_ been thinking demonic ritual sacrifices. Now she just thought that if the fucker didn’t come and take the bait already she’d literally freeze her ass off. She’d freeze her literal ass off.

“I’m freezing my ass off here, guys, literally.” She complained into the ear piece.

Sam and Dean couldn’t relate as they sat warm and toasty inside the impala, parked a few yards down the street that intersected with the back of the alley. They heard her teeth clatter and where Sam winced sympathetically Dean let out a laugh.

“Should have made better life choices, then.” He teased.

“Pretty sure that’s offensive to prostitutes, Dean.” Sam corrected.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother as he listened for Mace’s reply.

“When he’s right, he’s right, though, Sam. My first mistake?” She paused to blow hot air onto her hands. “Agreeing to hunt with you two doofuses.”

“Best two years of your life sweetheart, don’t even front.”

“Just shut your ugly ass mouth, Winchester. You’re lucky I’m probably going to die of pneumonia before I get to you.”

Dean laughed again.

“Mace, it really is near freezing temperature, you should have worn a hoodie or something.” Sam said.

“Hookers don’t wear hoodies, Sammy.” Dean took it upon himself to educate his little brother.

Mace rolled her eyes as she rubbed her hands together. “Dean knows all about that working girl life.”

Dean smacked Sam upside the head morphing the younger of two’s laugh into a choked chortle.

“Hey mister.” Mace said, only her voice was low now, husky, and the brothers knew she wasn’t talking to them anymore. 

It made Dean uneasy. Also, it turned him on a bit. But mostly he felt uneasy that she was out there pimping herself out to sleaze bags and maybe- hopefully?- a demon. Odd, that he preferred the idea of a black eyed freak coming for her life than some pervert coming for her. Dean knew she wasn’t defenceless, he’d seen her hold her own in the field. Hell, he probably owes her his life just as much as she owes him hers. Still. _Still._

“What’re ya lookin’ for, baby?” Mace continued. “Mm, yeah? I charge two grand for that.”

Sam and Dean heard the screeching of tires against asphalt and then saw the car exit the alley on their side of the block.

“Wasn’t our guy.” She explained in her normal voice. “Only wanted a quickie.” Then, after a pause. “I’m worth more than two Gs, that little fucker. I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“Eum...no?” Sam volunteered. “I mean yes? I mean, you said that to get rid of him so...”

“Shut up, Sam.” Mace said saving him from himself and making Dean laugh obnoxiously.

Mason tucked her hands into her armpits and found that even they were cold. “Next time, one of you can be bait.” She muttered bitterly, shifting from one foot to another.

She heard Dean laugh in her ear. “Don’t think we’re his type, darlin’, on the account that we don’t have anything like lil’ Mae and Cece strapped to our chests.”

“ _Stop_ naming my breasts, Dean.” Mace barked. “Or at least give them better names than that. Mae isn’t even that much smaller than- y’know what? Shut up.”

She heard both brothers laugh and it was at her expense and she was cold and she just wanted to gank this fucker and crawl into a radiator and die.

“Alright, alright.” Dean took pity on her. “We’ll cool it. Seriously, though, you alright? I don’t like not having eyes on you. Maybe we should move up to the alley.”

“You’re good.” Mace assured. “Stay where you are so you can follow whatever car I end up getting into. You two better stay close too, I’m not exactly brimming with weapons, here.” She buried her fingers in her hair, drawing heat from there. 

“Where did you even tuck that blade?” Sam asked in genuine innocent curiosity.

“You need to mind your own goddamn business and Black Eyes needs to show up already.” She countered, grateful that the boys couldn’t see her blush. “Stop laughing, Dean.”

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m impressed, really.”

“Hey there.” Mace hummed seductively as a car pulled up in front of her. She hadn’t even seen it coming. 

She leaned down into the window and sent the driver a sultry smile. It was an older man but it was the rosary beads that caught her eye. She figured this wasn’t their guy either until she inhaled the rotten stench of sulfur. They’d smelled the stuff in the club and it was the confirmation they needed for their demonic ritual sacrifice theory.

“I’m good, sugar.” Sam and Dean heard her flirt through the phone line. “I’m well, sir.” She said then sounding a little thrown off. “What can I do ya for?” Pause. “Right. What can I do for you, sir?” Pause. “The whole night, huh? I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d be spending my evening with a man of faith.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. What was that supposed to mean? Whatever it was, Dean didn’t like it. The situation was making him feel way past uneasy.

“Mace, I don’t like this.” Dean picked up the phone to speak into the receiver. “Abort. Fall back. Or gank the fucker but don’t get in the car.” 

“Dean, we need to find his lair.” Sam reminded. They thought maybe the demon might still have a victim alive.

“I don’t care.” Dean snapped. “Mace, we’re coming to you now.” He turned the engine off. “Mace?” He was only met with silence. “Mason.” He shouted.

Sam and Dean looked up to where the alley let out onto the street and waited expectantly, breaths held, for a car to roll out. No car did.

They were both out of the impala so fast the naked eye wouldn’t have seen them sprint to the mouth of the alley.

-

Mace felt dizzy but kind of like a good dizzy? Almost like a happy drunk level before the need to hurl settles in. Only she was on a hunt, so dizzy wasn’t supposed to be a good thing but this didn’t feel bad. Besides, she was being carried down stairs which made her feel like a child that’d fallen asleep on a sofa. That was nice. 

_Only she was on a hunt._

Why would someone be carrying her? If she was going to be carried anywhere it would be into the impala, or into the motel so Dean could patch her up. That’s _if_ she’d gotten hurt. She hadn’t gotten hurt. She hadn’t found the demon yet. Why would she be going down stairs? 

It didn’t matter why. Something was wrong. 

Maybe she should open her eyes. Take a look around. Assess the situation. That’s what a hunter would do. She was a hunter. She was starting to think that maybe she was a roofied hunter but that was beside the point. Her lids were too heavy. The only thing she managed a glimpse of was dim lighting and metal bars. Something was decidedly wrong. 

She tried to move her arms next, then her body but she mostly just squirmed around. She thought she might have heard the word ‘Heathen’ get spat at her. She definitely felt actual spit land on her face. 

-

The brothers made their way back to the alley after driving around the block in search for Mason.

“Sam, we already looked around here. We should keep scouting the area instead.” Dean said scanning the ground for anything out of the ordinary. He did his best to focus and remain efficient but he was freaking out. How had he let this happen? How had he let Mace get taken without keeping track of her? Without a goddamn clue as to where she was?

“I’m telling you, Dean, we have to have missed something.” Sam insisted. “The car came from there.” He said, pointing towards the main street of the town where the nightlife bubbled on. “It should have come out there.” He pointed to the other end of the alley, the spot just a few yards from where they had parked on the quieter back street. “The alley is too tight to do a u-turn and you can’t back out into that traffic.” He reasoned, pointing to the busy street again. “We _should_ have seen it come out.”

Dean turned to look at his brother. “So, what, you’re saying the car vanished?” His face wrinkled in both concentration and confusion.

“Maybe our guy wasn’t even driving? Maybe he just strolled right up to her?”

“No, no way. Mace would have hinted at that. The plan was to follow her in the impala, she knows that.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t exactly sound like herself towards the end there.”

“She was seducing the bastard.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. She sounded put off, she sounded _respectful._ Not like she was trying to entice a demon into choosing her to sacrifice-”

“Alright, okay.” Dean considered for a moment then shook his head. “Still, no though. The other vics were all last seen getting into a car with a client. Why would our monster of the week change his MO suddenly?”

“Fine. So what kind of demon would bother with a car?” Sam asked walking up to a brick wall and examining it.

“She did call him a man of faith, that was weird.” Dean bounced off of his brother, bending down to look at discarded papers on the ground, desperate for one of them to mean something. They were just receipts. 

“A demon masquerading as a priest?”

“A demon masquerading as a priest who’s actually soliciting, using a car only to make it go poof?”

“I’m not saying it makes sense.”

“Yeah, but I’m saying it doesn’t.” Dean inhaled sharply. “We have to find her, Sammy.” He said throatily. 

“I know, we will.” Sam looked over to his brother just in time to see him blink away a few tears.

Dean’s features hardened again and he spotted something odd a few feet away fromhim. Something that looked like skid marks.

\-  KNIFE

The dizziness receded eventually but when Mason came to she almost wished it hadn’t. Her wrists were shackled to the top rod of a metal frame while she balanced precariously on the bottom rod. Even as she stretched her body as far as it would go, she could only get the balls of her feet planted on the metal. 

Glancing around, she realised she was in what looked like a cellar. _Great._ She wasn’t sure what she was expecting since they’re dealing with demonic rituals but maybe she’d hoped for something a little more imaginative.

Why couldn’t the bad guy take them to a penthouse suite for once? Wouldn’t Evil enjoy a view of the city they were torturing? She’d do that if she was a villain. Maybe she should consider the career, if she makes it out of this alive. She could become the new Big Bad enough to force all the others into submission and then she’d dismantle them from the inside. Beats being bait. Again. Beats being chained in a damn cellar. _Again._

A more analytical look around revealed that there was one exit. A stone archway to her right that opened to concrete stairs leading up. There were no windows, not even narrow slit-like ones near the ceiling like what you’d find in a basement. There were no vents either which would explain the stink of air that’s been enclosed for too long. Mace wasn’t a specialist but she thought maybe that extra funk in the stink might have been a severe case of mold.

This place was just _dirty._ Even from her position she could see the thick layer of dust coating every available surface. Seriously, there was so much of the stuff you could raise a dust bunny army. It was everywhere, except... Except the table by the archway. The table by the archway that had a large jug of water with something floating inside of it, a slender knife and a ritual bowl. Again, Mace wasn’t particularly well versed in containers intended for ritualistic purposes but the markings carved into the brass felt like a big-ass clue. She’ll chalk it up to an educated guess.

At least she found their guy. Hooray. Now she just hoped her guys found her.

She shivered and for a moment she thought it was out of fear. Then she realised just how cold she was. It was colder here than it had been in the alley. Mace did the math, carried the one, double checked her answer and concluded that while she’d accurately deduced that she wasn’t in a basement, she was definitely in the basement of a basement. Maybe the basement of a basement of a basement. She was underground far past six feet under, is her point. 

“Perfect.” She muttered. _Where the hell are Sam and Dean?_

She wiggled and knew that her blade was no longer tapped to the top of her thigh and her earpiece was obviously long gone. She gave the shackles and experimental tug that she knew would be fruitless and managed to slip off the bottom rod. The frame was high enough from ground that her toes didn’t even brush the floor. The cuffs dug into the skin of her wrists and she felt the strain of her weight where her arms met her shoulders. She scrambled to quickly get back on the metal bar beneath her.

She shot a suspicious glance at the archway. She was grateful that the demon had decided he had better things to do at the moment, though with her luck he was probably just waiting for it to be midnight or some other ritualistic component. Rituals, man. 

She gripped the chains attached to her new wide iron bracelets as best she could and hoisted herself up. She didn’t have a bobby pin in her hair. She had two. Suck it, monsters. 

It took more laborious effort than she’d be willing to admit to get her head near her hands. When she’d managed, though, letting go of the chain long enough to retrieve her hair accessory didn’t seem feasible. She should have listened to Sam when he suggested she start weight training. _What’s the fun in lifting heavy things?_ Is what she’d said. In that moment, Mason hated her past self. She also hated Sam for being right.

She tried to wrap her legs around one of the side bars of the metal frame to give her more leverage but it was too far away. Next, she tried to hook a leg on the top rod where the other end of the chain was attached. It was too high and this was really starting to feel like a camp song. _If you can’t go over, if you can’t go under, if you can’t go around, what do you do?_ A bad camp song maybe. _You go through it._

She sighed and gripped the chain more firmly in one hand while the other darted out to run through her hair. Her fingers felt along her scalp and eventually they hit plastic but only long enough to recognise the object before her other hand gave out.

Her fall was two things: loud and painful. She let out a shushing sound as though she were trying to quiet her chains and she let out a hissing sound as she mourned the tendons in her shoulders and her metacarpal bones. When she felt something dribble down the length of her arm she knew she was bleeding from her wrist.

“Perfect.” She muttered again, only this time it was surlier. _Where the_ hell _are Sam and Dean?_

She attempted the endeavor over and when she fell, this time, she ripped a few of her hairs out.

“Son of a bitch!” She cried out. She’d been spending too much time with the Winchesters.

“Shhh.” She heard.

Mason’s eyes found the person who’d made the sound quickly. It wasn’t the brothers she’d just mentally complained about but the demon who’d taken her. He was a scrawny older man, a bad choice for a meat suit, if you asked her.

“Foul language will land you in Hell.” The man cautioned and if Mace didn’t know any better she’d think it was a sincere warning. 

“Maybe,” She glared. “But I’ll send you back there first.” 

She began to chant the one exorcism she knew by heart. It was a weak plan but it would do. The demon would either come at her to shut her up in which case she could do some damaged with a few choice kicks or he would leave or smoke out before she could finish the incantation. Neither scenario solved her problem but it’d buy her time. It’d buy Sam and Dean time.

She was half way through the exorcism when she noticed the man raise an eyebrow at her, completely unaffected. She started back from the top, concentrating more on her enunciation. Still, the man was unbothered.

“Euh...” Mace said dumbly. 

“Your satanic praising won’t be of help, hussy.” 

“ _Hussy?!_ ” She retorted focusing entirely on the wrong part of his exclamation.

The man turned his back and busied himself at the table. 

Her view was blocked but Mace figured he was pouring and mixing things in the ritual bowl as one does at a ritual. 

“Yes, my dear.”

‘My dear.’ She mouthed in confusion.

“You think you can trollop around like that with your virtues skewed and go by any other name?”

“I wouldn’t say, I’ve been _trollopping._ Besides, aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black?” She shot.

He whipped around and glared her down and, God help her, it scared Mace. Mace who’d faced off against all the creepy crawlies you could think of, some you wouldn’t even dream of. Who’d gone toe to toe with Crowley back when he was actually terrifying and not whipped by Dean. Mace who’d stepped right up to Lucifer, looked him dead in the eye and told him to shove it. He had flung her across the room after that and effectively knocked her out for the following fight but she’d _done_ it, is the point.

Yet, the look the man gave her scared her. Not in the way evil scares, but in the way a misguided self-righteous force does. There are few things, she’d learned, more dangerous than a man with a mission and without bounds.

“You’re not a demon.” She breathed.

“Me?” He laughed jovially. “No, you’re the one who has succumbed to the Devil.”

“But the sulfur.” She thought out loud more than asked.

The man looked at her with pride etched into his features briefly. “A useful tool. Part of a mix that can subdue a little thing like you.” 

“That doesn’t make sense, if you had some kind of airborne super-roofie stinking upyour car then why wouldn’t it knock you out too?”

“Because _I_ am doing God’s work.”

Mace narrowed her eyes appraisingly. “You’re no angel. _What_ are you?”

“Holier than thou.” He replied sanctimoniously before returning to his bowl.

“Wrong answer.” She spat as she watched him pick up the knife, dip it in the bowl and set it back down at the table. “You’re a goddamn monster and trust me I know a lot about-”

“Enough.” He roared and swiveled on his heels.

He stalked towards her with the jug of water she could now see had rosary beads inside of it. _Holy water? What the fuck is going on in this case?_

“You will _not_ speak the Lord’s name in vain.” He ordered harshly before sloshing her with the ice cold water.

Mace spluttered barely getting a quick inhale between each splash. He continued until the jug emptied. Mace blinked away the water from her eyes and saw the self satisfied grin on his face through her soaked curtain of hair. She hung her head, catching her breath, and did her best to remain standing on the now slippery metal rod beneath her boots. _Where the_ Hell _were Sam and Dean?_

Without another word the man returned to the table and swirled the bowl in tight circles.

“Ironic, don’t you think? That you’d say that to me.” She said as her teeth clattered away. 

“I told you in the car to address me properly.” He reminded admonishingly, his tone much lighter than it had been before.

“Fine.” Mace accepted with a roll of her eyes. “Irony, _sir._ ” She spat the words.

“Why’s that, my dear?” He asked approaching her with the bowl. _That’s not good._

“Y’know, here you are, kidnapping, serving up a spoonful of pneumonia, intending on murdering. Not exactly the actions of the pious. You’ve heard of ‘Thou shall do no harm’, right _sir_?”

The man laughed, amused by the girl’s commentary. “I’m not harming you.”

“Could have fooled me.” She snapped.

He slapped her across the face. “Mind your tone, little girl. I’m trying to save you.”

Mace barked out a clamorous laugh. “Save me?”

“Yes.” He deadpanned. “Your sinful ways have bound you to Hell, my dear. Worry not, I will cleanse your soul. But first, your body.” He dunked the contents of the bowl unceremoniously onto her chest.

It took Mace less than a second to figure out what the main component of his concoction was. Believe it or not, she found herself wishing it was blood. Instead, she found herself drenched in petrol. The man before her lit a long match stick in a swift motion. The flame illuminated his face, casting stark shadows across it. His wicked smile was not demonic but it was, and Mace knew for sure now, evil in way that was purely human.

-

They weren’t skid marks but it didn’t take long for Dean to figure out that the dumpster had grated into the asphalt by being slid sideways and back along the wall.

“Sam, come check this out.” The hunter called for his brother.

Sam looked closely then took several steps back and looked at the dumpster from afar. “You think a car could fit through a hole that big?”

“Yes, come on, help me.” Dean was already pushing the large metal container to the side.

The brothers pushed and shoved and kicked before Dean stalked away. 

“Dean, where-” Sam interrupted himself as he saw Dean climb into the impala. He got out of the way as quickly as he could before Dean rammed into the side of the dumpster.

It barely budged but there was an opening large enough for them to slip through now. 

Just inside there was a 1986 Hyundai Excel.

“Ugly car, fit for an ugly son of a bitch.” Dean quipped before starting down the stone stairs behind the car at full speed, Sam hot on his heels.

-

“No no no nononono, wait. _Wait._ ” Mason plead. She couldn’t go out like this. She couldn’t die burned alive. She couldn’t die at the hands of _some old guy_. She couldn’t die tied up and defenseless. She was supposed to die fighting. She was supposed to die like a hunter. Not _like this._ “Don’t do this. Listen to me, you don’t have to do this.”

The man looked at her softly, though Mason barely registered his gaze, her eyes peeled on the flickering flame.

“I know that, my Dear.” He finally said. “I’m choosing to do this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m doing it for you and others like you. To secure you a path to Heaven.” He stepped closer to her.

Close enough that Mace knew she could land a kick that would knock him out. She brought her leg up quickly in a practiced motion but the man moved out of her range faster than she could have imagined. He was fast on his feet for an old dude.

He scowled at her violent outburst. “You will be saved, my child, whether you want it or not.”

With the flick of his wrist, he threw the match onto Mason.

She watched it approach her, almost in slow motion. She surprised herself when it’s not her life that flashed before her eyes but what her life could have been. She surprised herself again when that wasn’t normalcy and college and a regular eight-to-five. What she saw wasn’t a cool apartment in the city and dinner parties and credit cards in her own name.

It was Dean. She saw life with Dean. The annoying, arrogant, reckless, bossy, smug bastard who’d been getting kicks out of pestering her since Bobby introduced them. Dean who mocked her and teased her and drove her up the wall insane. 

It wasn’t all he’d done, of course. He’d also had her back in the field. Out of the field, he talked her down from more emotional ledges than she could count. He’d made her laugh all the goddamn time with all his dumb goddamn jokes. He’d given her a home. He’d offered her a family. Something she hadn’t had for so long she had barely recognised it. 

Dean who was kind and giving and noble and dangerously self-sacrificing. He’d put her at ease with one look. He’d make her feel safe with one touch. He’d made her love him with all of the above.

As the match got closer she regretted nothing more than the fact that she hadn’t acted on her feelings. She saw glimpses of what her life could have been with the hunter and it broke her heart.

She saw him sitting to her left in the impala, one hand on the wheel, one hand in her hair, a shit eating grin plastered across his face. The warm light from the sun dipping just below the horizon kindling a wild glint in his gorgeous green eyes. 

She saw him wink at her mischievously as he enlisted her help in pranking his brother.

She saw him pressing her against the railing of the bunker stairs because he just couldn’t wait for them to get to a bedroom.

The match brushed just passed her thigh but close enough that the gasoline crackled as it caught fire.

The old man watched as his latest rescue erupted in flames. He was a hero.

-

Sam and Dean rushed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, sometimes bounding down full flights between landings. They’d been going for a while, the steep and spiraling stairwell seeming eternal, when they heard her scream.

It was loud and piercing and further away than they would have liked. It made Dean’s stomach churn.

“This is good.” Sam assured with as much conviction as he could muster. “Means she’s alive.”

Dean didn’t reply, just picked up the pace.

-

The heat of the fire ate her up, contrasting flagrantly with the cold she’d been feeling before. However, other than the undeniable calidity and the initial shock that had caused her to scream and slip off the metal frame, Mace realised the fire didn’t really hurt.

Seconds later it receded completely, extinguished by some invisible force, leaving her utterly bare. Her clothing was reduced to ashes that now either littered the ground or clung to the crevices of her body. There was some on top of the mounds of her breast, some on her shoulders, some on the edge of her belly button and some sticking to the blood on her side, where it had dripped. 

The pain in her shoulders and wrists tugged her mind back to the present and she clambered back onto the metal rod, now standing on her bare toes. 

“Not the skirt.” She mourned quietly, still a little dazed by the events. Goosebumps flared as the cold hit her again. She was definitely getting some kind of sick if she somehow managed to not die.

“You see!” The man accused. “Greed on top of lust. You are plagued by sin, my dear. It’s alright. I’m going to help you.” He brought down a flogger onto her exposed stomach suddenly and forcefully.

Mace let out a short shout. “What the fuck?” She demanded. “You need to listen to me, whatever gave you the mojo to pull a stunt like that, it’s going to come for you. Let me help you. Stop this, let me help.”

“Quiet!” He ordered, hitting her a second time. It jostled her body enough to make gray ash rain around her.

She gritted her teeth together to fend off the sting or to fend off her rage she wasn’t sure. 

The man whipped her again in rapid succession, once on each breast, then each hip and finally each thigh. Mace cried out as each hit grew more violent. She saw her skin turn red and when he continued his ministrations she saw it darken further. She struggled to stay on the bottom rod, the last thing she needed was to dislocate a shoulder.

“Pain,” He said in between strikes. “Purifies the soul,” He hit her again. “And you will be pure for Heaven.”

“You’re a damn dirty liar.” She hissed despite the ache. “I know that you kill- _ah!_ \- your vics.”

“Of course. I can’t trust you to remain pristine. If I send you back out into the world you will taint yourself all over again. You will return to squalor and to an immoral life of misdeed. Like this, if I end your miserable life you will get to rise directly to Heaven.” He explained calmly. “I am doing this for you.” He added with bite before lashing out at her one final time and returning to the table. 

“You’re sick, you hear me? How many girls have you done this to, huh? How many lives have you cut short before their time? Believe me when I say that you’ll get what’s coming to you. What was it? Did you make a deal at a crossroads?” Mace noticed him falter. “That’s it isn’t it?” She laughed more cruelly than she’d like to admit. “You asked for the tools to pull this stunt of yours off. The knock-out mojo, the purifying fire...” Mace laughed again.

“Do you know what the cost of that is? Tell me, _sir,_ do you know where _your_ soul is going to end up?” She leveled him with a glare.

He stood in front of her again, this time with the knife in his hand. “Silence, girl.” He evaluated her body and looked for the best patch of skin to start carving the necessary markings. “I am hard at work.” 

“All work and no play, makes for a very twisted fucker.” Dean said from the archway, finger on the trigger of his aimed gun, a beat away from pulling it.

“De, he’s human.” Mace rushed through the words. 

She wouldn’t mind if the man were to die, she wouldn’t mind one bit, and that’s why she couldn’t allow it. It was too easy for her to lose herself to the rot inside of her soul. She found herself wishing that the man’s ritual had worked. That he really had rid her of the parts of her that were corrupt. 

She saw a flicker of hesitation come across Dean’s features. If she hadn’t been looking, if she didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d have missed it. The heinous part of her preened at the idea that Dean would kill for her. She beat that part of her down and watched as the brothers moved in and incapacitated the man easily enough.

Seconds later Dean was shrugging off his green army jacket and Sam was working her cuffs off. Sam eased her arms back against her body and she winced at the strain there. Dean gathered Mace into his jacket, into his arms and held her against him. They didn’t move for a minute, maybe longer. He just supported her weight, taking her off metal frame, and relished in it, in the feel of her against him. 

“Fucking humans.” He muttered. “C’mon.” He scooped her into a bridal carry and Mace didn’t even complain. He followed Sam to the stairs, a few paces behind. “Gonna take care of you, Macie.”

Her eyes were half lidded as she burrowed her face into his chest. “I know.” She whispered. “You always do.” 

-

Mason woke up suddenly in a bed wearing nothing but a jacket and buried under a mountain of blankets. Enough that she knew the boys must have brought theirs from their own motel room. She smiled selfishly at that, they were taking care of her because they were family. Her wrists were bandaged and she could tell that Sam had done the left one whereas the right one was Dean’s work.

_Dean._

All her epiphanies from her near death experience came rushing back.

Life with Dean, that’s what she wanted. She could still admit it to herself, something she wasn’t able to do earlier that day. However, since she wasn’t about to die in a matter of seconds it was a little harder to act on it. She grunted at her own lack of strength. 

A glance at the bedside table told her it was three in the morning. She also found a note.

_Call if anything._

And then in a different handwriting.

_We mean it._

Her cellphone, which she’d left in the car due to the earpiece, was conveniently placed next to the note. She considered it, calling. She thought about it for long arduous minutes, at least ten of them. Just because she wanted Dean didn’t mean he wanted her. She knew him well enough to know that if he did, he’d have made a move by now. But he hasn’t. So he doesn’t.

The hopeful part of her whispered that she’d be the type that would make a move too, yet she hasn’t. Maybe Dean was in the same boat.

She smothered the voice quickly. Hopeful was dangerous in her line of work. Her line of work, that was another thing that made her and Dean a bad idea.

Ultimately, she decided she needed cleaning up. Not because she was unholy but because she stunk. She smelled like gas and smoke and mold. 

She made her way to the bathroom and shrugged off Dean’s jacket. Opening the curtain to the shower she saw her bandaged wrists, again. She sighed deeply. It was either shower, try not to wet them, wet them inevitably, have to one handedly bandage them up again or not shower. 

She sighed again and settled on a whore’s bath. No, the irony didn’t escape her.

When she felt clean enough and smelled like citrus instead of grimy basement, she hesitated momentarily before donning on Dean’s jacket again. She decided she was entitled to the little comfort it afforded her. She returned to her bed and sat atop the sheets, wide awake. Then she decided she was entitled to a lot of comfort.

It took him two minutes to knock softly at her door after she’d shot him a text. _Dean._

She opened it enough for him to slide into the room then shut it quickly, her uninspired attempt at keeping the heat in and the cold out.

She leaned against the door and faced him. She watched his wide shoulders make an appearance as he shrugged off a different jacket and tossed it onto the customary small table.

He watched her right back when he was done. 

“Mace.” He breathed after they’d been looking at each other for a while. 

The word hung in the air long enough that it could have made them uncomfortable but it didn’t. Mace wanted to reply, she did, but she didn’t know where she wanted to go with the conversation. She hadn’t really made up her mind about _life with Dean._ She just knew she didn’t want to be alone tonight. It had been a shitty case. The case before that had been half as shitty but shit-like nevertheless. She was allowed to want the ease of Dean’s company.

“Macie. You’re doing alright?” Dean asked his voice low still. 

She nodded.

“How are your wrists?”

She nodded again, unintelligently. “Did I wake you?” Her voice was small even to her own ears.

“No.” He lied.

“You’re shit at that.” She laughed and it alleviated the unspoken heaviness in the dimly lit room.

He chuckled. “Lying is a science, Mace. Science is not meant for the wee hours.”

“Didn’t know you to be the type to make excuses.” She teased.

“That’s something we’re both good at all the time though, huh Macie?” He rumbled and just like that the tension was back. He barely believed he’d said that. He’d hinted at how he felt about Mason, at the relationship he wanted with her, but he’d never been so blunt, which wasn’t even all that blunt.

“Maybe it’s because we’re smart.” She countered matter-of-factly and a little sadly. 

Dean inhaled deeply like he was gathering courage. “Sam’s the smart one. You and me? We’re reckless.” He watched her watch him for a moment and then, to drive his point home, continued, “I’m painting you a picture about a ball and courts here.” He clarified cryptically. Clearly, even now as he’s laying it all on the table, he’s having a hard time coming out and saying it.

It was enough an explanation for Mace, though. She hadn’t been able to before but she made up her mind about _life with Dean,_ then _._ She decided it was worth it. She decided it would be worth every risk, always. 

“This is yours.” Mace said, grabbing the collar of his jacket and breathing deeply just like he had, scouring for her own courage.

“You can keep it.” Dean assured understanding that she was taking the ball off the proverbial field entirely.He still thought she looked damn good in it. “I don’t min-”

He stopped speaking when Mason unzipped the jacket and pulled it off her body. She threw it on top of his other one.

Dean swallowed thickly as she stood there gloriously naked.

“S’yours.” She reiterated.

“T-the jacket?” He choked. 

She moved her head slowly to one side then the other then back in the universal sign for ‘no’. “Not the jacket.” She whispered. 

Dean stood there watching her, his pupils blown as his gaze held hers. His eyes purposefully travelled down after that, lingering on her lips, making a mental note of marking her neck later, appreciating her breasts. Then he saw the welts on her stomach from the flogging she’d suffered. They were light enough that they wouldn’t scar once given enough time to heal.

He stepped closer to her and placed his impossibly large hand on her hip. His thumb darted out to swipe against one strip of raised flesh.

Mace gasped as the pad of his thumb brushed her sensitive skin. It was kind of sick considering but the sensation shot straight to her core and she had to keep herself from squeezing her thighs together.

Dean repeated the motion just to hear Mace gasp again, his eyes watching her parted lips now.

“You’re okay?” He asked again.

“V’had worse. You know that.” She breathed, her eyes fluttering shut.

That was true. He’d seen her skin covered in more bruises than not, before. That didn’t make this okay. It didn’t make him feel any better. They’d had close calls before but tonight was different. Tonight was on them. They should have been better prepared. Shouldn’t have sent her out, essentially, on her own. “I want to hear you.” He said, because he needed it.

Mace opened her eyes and was startled to find Dean’s boring into them. Bright, green and earnest. “I’m okay.” She promised then cracked a smile. “Probably just won’t be getting too creative in the bedroom for a while.”

He grinned back at her. “So heavy duty hard core kinks are off the table, huh?”

“Mm, just for a bit.” She baited impudently. Her brows furrowed abruptly. “Definitely won’t be calling anyone ‘sir’ in bed ever again, though.”

“Again?” Dean verified, suppressing a smirk and raising a knowing brow.

Mace shoved at his shoulder with an eye roll.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” Dean said suddenly, stunning Mace for a moment.

“Yeah, oka-”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence because Dean’s lips were on hers stealing the words right out of her mouth. The kiss was fervent which didn’t surprise her. Dean did things wholly or not at all. He cupped her jaw with his free hand angling her face towards him. His shoulders hunched slightly and covered her body, as he bent down to brush their lips together. She felt cut off from the rest of the world in the best way, like he’d created a bubble with his body for them to exist in freely. 

Mace’s hands trembled as they reached for Dean. She twisted her fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him against her so their bodies were pressed together. It was as though she needed confirmation that this was really happening. The feel of his clothing against her bare skin was rough and perfect and made her moan.

The sound spurred Dean on and he gripped her hip that much tighter. He leaned into her harder, forcing her flat against the door. He kissed her hungrily, biting at her lower lip, reveling in the feel of it trapped between his teeth. When he released it, he leaned his head back a few inches just to admire her.She looked wrecked and her lustful eyes plead for more. Dean wanted to give her more. Dean wanted to give her everything.

Then, they were kissing again only now there was an urgency to it. It was a delicious slip and slide of tongues as they tasted and explored and it only ended when Mace insisted it was time for Dean’s shirt to come off.

Dean flushed his bare chest to hers, felt her nipples pebble against him, and locked his mouth to her neck. 

Mace squirmed against him as he nipped at the skin, her breathing laboured, her heart racing. 

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” Dean asked her in an almost admonishing tone as his lips dragged up the length of her throat.

Mace gripped his chin to force him to look at her, ready to lay into him, ready to demand why _he’d_ made her wait so long. What she saw when her eyes met his halted her course of action, however. He looked at her with so much desire etched into his features that Mace wondered how she had been blind to it before. She wondered why they’d waited so long, indeed.

“No more waiting.” She replied finally.

Dean smiled at her boyishly and it was so damn endearing Mace kind of wanted to sucker punch him. He grabbed her hand and dragged her along behind him as he made his way to the bed, not unlike a child pulling a friend towards where the next game they _just had to play_ was.

He spun her around and she landed on the bed with a laugh. He made a show of removing his belt and it was so playful, felt so right, Mace couldn’t help but grin up at him toothily.

Then he was opening up his jeans revealing the sprinkling of dark curls and suddenly Mace had to focus very hard on breathing.

“Like what you see?” He teased a little pridefully as he got his pants off the rest of the way.

Mace wanted to look up and glare at him, mock him for the cliché even, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his cock. She watched, sort of fascinated, as the member filled out more and more and grew, her mouth going dry at the thought of it inside of her.

Dean wanted to tease her more, but her shameless admiration was going straight to his head. Heads. Whatever. He felt dizzy with the visual praise which is how Mace got the jump on him. She scooted down the bed so she sat at its edge with Dean standing between her thighs.

Her focus remained on his, now completely hard, erection as her tongue darted out her parted lips to wet them. The subconscious action did not escape Dean as he looked down at her. The whimper it elicited out of him made Mace finally glance up and the sight of him did things to her.

She smirked, then, but only for the briefest of seconds. It was there. Then it was gone so quick that Dean wasn’t even sure it had happened but it didn’t matter because Mace stuck her tongue out again only this time it was to lick the tip of his cock. Soon nothing really mattered and Dean didn’t think anything ever would again. It’s just a quick swipe of the tongue but it made Dean shudder anyway, because he’d been _waiting_ for this.

“Macie.” He groaned out and it gave her goosebumps as well as the biggest confidence boost ever. 

Life on the road hadn’t made her a prude but she’d had to opt for more mutually satisfying positions to get the deed, so to speak, done efficiently. That meant that blowjobs weren’t her forte but damn did she want to please Dean.

She wrapped her lips around him and sucked. Just...sucked. 

She watched Dean’s head fall back as he moaned loudly above her and it sounded like a reward, to her. She sucked again and twirled her tongue around the head, this time getting him to release a trembling breath. 

“Shit, Mace.”

She saw him run a hand through his hair desperately and felt his other one tangle with her own locks. He gripped her at the roots tightly without directing her in anyway but the light tug on her scalp made her whine in the back of her throat. That’s where she wanted Dean next, she decided. At the back of her throat.

She also decided that she wanted Dean to watch which is why she lifted her hands from where they had been clutching her knees to rest them on his thighs. She pinched one to draw his attention back to her and of course it did. Dean’s head snapped forward and his eyes met hers heatedly. 

Mace felt brazen enough to wink at him before she began to slide her mouth forward slowly, working her tongue around him. She dug her fingers into his flesh as though wanting to lay claim. She wanted him hyper aware of her. 

_And he was._ A little too much, even.

She’d gotten half his length down when the grasp Dean had on her hair tightened, an attempt at holding her still. Mason was having none of it and she continued to pull him into her mouth, hallowing her cheeks.

“ _Macie._ ” Dean moaned, strained, forcing her off of him.

He ducked down quickly pecking her on the lips to placate her objections.

“Later.” He promised and when he saw her mouth flicker into a frown for only a fraction of a second he pressed his forehead against hers and murmured, “You’ll be the death of me.”

Their next kiss was anything but chaste. It was dirty and greedy and full of intent as Dean showed her exactly what he wanted to do with her. He laid her back on the mattress and they shuffled up the bed so that he was kneeling between her thighs.

He sat back on his heels and watched her catch her breath as he chased after his own, a sly and satisfied smile on his face. They’d made it, somehow. They were here. _She_ was here. Beneath him, naked and beautiful, his to touch and to love. It’d taken so long to get here, _too long._ Dean had wanted to sleep with her since they’d been introduced and it didn’t take long after that for Dean to want more than that. Want her in a way he never thought he could allow himself, yet here they were. Offering themselves to each other.

He slid his hands up her legs slowly, saw her breath hitch, smirked, and grabbed her inner thighs to part them. He figured it was time for some pay back.

Mace shifted shyly under his persistent gaze. The only reason she didn’t press her thighs together was because she didn’t want to give in and admit to the power he held over her. Well, that and because his hands were now clutching her, forcefully keeping her legs spread for him and that just made her wetter.

“S’not that hard, Dean.” She taunted. “Tab A in slot B.”

He rolled his eyes at her and mumbled, “Shut up, Mace.”

She would have retorted, he knew, because he knew her, which is why he slotted his thumbs on either side of her lips and pulled them apart. 

Mace released a surprised breath as she felt her pussy open up. She suppressed the squeak that threatened to come out not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “C’mon, Dean.” She gibed. “Hanky panky me. Give-”

“Shut up, _Mason_.” Dean snapped at her, using her full name, meaning business.

Mace did as she was told, his abruptness turning her on more.

Dean moaned as he saw her get wetter. “Jesus, you’re so pretty here, Macie.” He praised, pushing her lips together and then apart again getting her to moan in turn. “Of course, you are.” He said more to himself. “Just had to be.”

Mace wanted to tell him to shut up but then he was dipping his head and prodding the tip of his tongue just inside of her so she cried out in pleasure instead.

“Fuck yeah, Mace, want you loud, okay?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer and licked up her slit, slowly spreading her pussy just that little bit more. He circled her clit once and made his way back down.

Mace had her eyes shut tightly, teeth clenched and chest heaving as she rode jolt after jolt of pleasure. She grabbed hold of one of the too many blankets on the bed to keep her hands from pulling at Dean’s hair. 

Her mutters were unintelligible but from her tone Dean could tell when it was accolades and when it was insults. He grinned, his face still buried between her legs. It was when he got a sharp undeniable moan out of her that he felt especially proud.

Mace’s hips began to lift to meet Dean’s mouth, they began to roll to essentially grind against his face but she only noticed she was doing it when Dean’s hands snaked beneath her thighs to lay on her lower abdomen and hold her down. 

That must have done something for her, which he made note of, because she grunted a sound that was simultaneously high pitched and guttural. Dean couldn’t help himself but to look up and smirk boastfully at her.

“Shut up.” She wanted to snap but the words came out wrecked and for a moment she felt insecure. She was flushed and sweaty whereas Dean was devilishly handsome from his position even with the slick coating his mouth and chin. _Her slick._ Then, Mace was too busy feeling hot and bothered to bother feeling insecure.

“Okay.” Dean agreed. “But only if you stop stopping yourself from being loud like that.” 

It wasn’t really a negotiation, Mace found out, as Dean returned to the very enjoyable task of eating her out. Mason wasn’t too sure why she complied, later she’ll realise it wasn’t totally of her own volition and curse her treacherous body, but she did. She did more than comply, in fact. By the time she felt like she was coming undone, her throat had gotten sore, her voice hoarse, and she knew, _she knew,_ that Dean wouldn’t let her hear the end of it.

“Dean. _Dean._ You got- You gotta stop. M’gonna-” And then she did. 

Dean continued to work her with his tongue until he knew she’d come down of her orgasm. Then he kept going until he thought the friction was too much for her overly sensitive pussy. He kissed his way up her body, giving her the time to regain some composure. He smiled when he got to her breasts.

“Lil’ Mae, Cece, we meet at last.” He half-joked.

“Put a sock in it, Dean.” Mace panted. 

Dean laughed the kind of laugh that had his eyes wrinkling and his body shaking, the kind of laugh Mace loved most. It didn’t stop her from sending her hand flying to smack him on the shoulder, though. He caught her wrist before she made contact and pressed it into the mattress, still grinning. He made a noise and Mason couldn’t believe her ears.

“Did you just tut at me?” She asked incredulously.

Dean just grinned wider, playfulness in his eyes, before catching one of her nipples between his teeth. She shook her head at him, still kind of baffled and then she shook it more vehemently. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him quickly.

“Want you now.” She kissed him filthily this time.

Dean didn’t _have_ to be told twice but he loved teasing her so much. He loved watching her fall apart, struggle to get herself back together only so he could get to take her apart all over again. So he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance but slid it up her folds instead of pushing in and the wait and friction was excruciating for him too but the _goddamn sounds his Macie made_ were so worth it.

“ _Dean_.” She begged or maybe she was scolding him.

Dean brushed his lips down the line of her jaw to plant a kiss beneath her ear and then licked all the way down her throat.

“Dean, c’mon.” She plead. He was sure that’s what it was this time. Her hand that wasn’t trapped in his shot out to grip the bicep of the arm holding and moving his cock. It was as though she thought if she held tightly enough, she could squeeze some sense into him. It didn’t work out like she’d hoped, Instead she copped a feel of his muscles shifting in sync to the slide of his head against her.

“Hmm?” He hummed then busied himself with sucking a mark right on top of her collarbone. 

“Don’t be a shit, just- _fuck._ ” She groaned when his cock nudged her clit on the upstroke.

“What do you want, Macie?” Dean managed to ask casually despite being at his wits ends too.

“Please.” She whimpered, giving up resistance. It was futile anyway. “Want you to fuck me, Dean.”

He pulled away from her neck, let go of her wrist and turned her head so she’d look him dead in the eyes. If Mace didn’t already know that they were green she wouldn’t be able to tell on the account that he was practically all pupil, no iris.

“I can do that, Macie.” He assured, the way he spoke his nickname for her in his gravely voice shooting straight to her sex. 

He entered her slowly because apparently Dean was sweet in bed on top of being completely insufferable. They both moaned the whole while. He couldn’t get over the feel of her wrapped around him, pulling him in deeper like even her cunt begged beautifully for him. She couldn’t get over the feel of him inside of her, filling her up _finally. Finally._

After years of waiting and wanting and here he was being so good to her. Making her feel amazing. Offering her what’s she’s been craving. Mace isn’t much of a talker when it came to feelings but all of a sudden she wanted, no, needed him to know.

“That’s it, Dean. God, you’re so great.” She wasn’t just talking about the sex and she knew he was able to tell.

“Don’t go giving him all the credit.” He quipped even as he gasped from pleasure.

“Take a fucking compliment, yeah?” She heaved and made a point of clenching around him in punishment. Very ineffective if she wanted to condition him to _not_ be an ass.

Dean was too lost in her at that point to retaliate. He got lost in the feel of her skin against his, in the way she writhed beneath him. He picked up the pace, thrusting more purposefully. Mace’s moaning in his ear driving him forward and spiking his arousal even more so. The scent of sex in the room, intoxicated him and he distantly wondered if they could bottle the stuff.

Then Mace wasn’t moaning so much anymore as she was crying out, sharp sounds that grounded him and shot through him all at once. The snapping of his hips began to stutter.

“Macie.” He moaned.

Mace concluded that she had gotten hooked on him saying her name like that because that’s what sent her over the edge. Her walls contracted around him and it was too much all at once and all Dean managed was another ‘Christ, _Macie._ ’ and he was coming too.

His vision goddamn _blurred_ and for a second he thought he really would die. He didn’t even mind. 

They panted in tandem for a few beats before Dean rolled off and out of her and onto his back beside her. Their chests rose and fell in harmony until they’d both calmed enough to speak.

“I didn’t think you wanted this.” Mason said finally, eyes fixed on the ceiling and doing her best to keep the nerves out of her voice.

“You’re not the sharpest, but it’s not a deal breaker.”

She smacked him on the chest and laughed. “Ass.”

Dean spoke more seriously after that. “I’ve wanted you for a while, but I wanted you to stick around more and I thought I couldn’t have both and then... Relationships, they... It gets complicated, living the way we do, you know that.”

She nodded then said ‘yeah’ when she realised he was also staring at the ceiling and might not have seen her.

“Didn’t help that you weren’t picking up what I was putting down. I was never sure if you weren’t catching on or if I had to take a hint, Mace.”

“What?” She wailed, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. “There have been no come-ons.” She insisted.

“Right, I just let _anyone_ take Baby for errands.” He tucked a hand behind his head. “And I read those books so you could have someone to talk with about them ‘cause I’m the literary type.”

“Hey, you read.” She countered.

Dean rolled his eyes and continued sarcastically. “I always want to be the one who stitches you up even though Sam’s better because I want the practice. I never mind when there’s only one available motel room because I _really_ hate sharing a bed with you and I’m always touching you casually because I like it.” He paused. “I mean, it is because I like it, but it’s to show you that I like it. That I like you. It was me putting the ball in your court.”

“Well how was I supposed to know?” She demanded, a little outraged.

Dean blinked at her.

“Seriously, Dean. I thought you were just touchy-feely and that you’d rather we share a bed than have one of us end up on the floor. Or worse,” She added with a shiver. “With Sam The kicker Winchester. Besides, you liked those books!”

“Are you serious, right now?”

“It’s not like I’ve ever really seen how you treat your other friends.” She tried to explain. “I figured you didn’t let Sam drive the impala because of sibling rivalries or some shit. Don’t look at me like that.”

He raised a brow at her. “Do I act that way with Jody?”

“No.” Mace admitted. “But you’re low key afraid of her. Don’t even pretend.”

Dean froze then shrugged. “Okay. You’ve got a point I guess.”

“Damn straight. Now apologise for calling me dumb.”

“I didn’t-”

“Apologise.”

“I’m sorry. You’re very intelligent, Mace.”

“True.” She agreed getting off the bed to retrieve Dean’s jacket. 

He watched her as she threw it on and when she walked back towards him he thought maybe he’d bought it all those years ago just so that it would get worn by her.

“I might want to keep this.” She stated referring to his vest as she crawled under the thick pile of sheets and nudged him to do the same.

He did just that after he’d donned his boxers. “I might want to keep you.”

They both got what they wanted.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @fanforfanatic
> 
> Feedback always appreciated :)


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